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The first move was taken so fast that nobody saw it. In typical legendary fashion, everybody claimed only they could see it, but the truth was, they were all lying. All that was hear was a loud cracking sound, and splinters flew in both directions. It was evident that each of them had an incredibly powerful swing. The weapons flew back to ready, and they faced each other again. In each weapon a groove one eighth of an inch thick could be seen. The suburito bokuto were Massacar ebony, four and a half pounds, and fifty inches long. Yet they had each deformed them as though they were white pine.

The next assault was not a testing of the waters. Hariel led, bokuto trailing, sweeping up at the last second to attempt to defeat Irian’s guard. As it rose, Irian hooked it with the back of his bokuto and parried the attack and led with the hilts of his weapon. The charge was meant to incapacitate an opponent, and had the added benefit of normally shaming them. However, a straight thrust hit his weapon midswing and caused it to glance to the side. To compensate, he went into a spin, arcing the practice blade over his head for a hammering blow. This one Hariel could not simply parry, and he brought his sword up to block.

Splinters flew from the length of his weapon, as stress cracks formed down its length. Everyone watched in wonder as he pushed him further down, onto his knees, trying to get him to stop this useless duel.

“I’ve proven I’m faster and stronger already, stop before I prove I’m a better tactician as well…” But his words fell on deaf ears. Hariel’s anger was rising, fomenting in him until it burst over, knocking aside the sword that was oppressing him. He charged Irian, shoulder checking him and knocking him down. A stomp took care of the rest of the goggles, pinning his neck in place for a chop that, though the blade was wooden, would certainly end Irian’s life.

Irian was stunned, but not caught unawares. He jammed the butt of his bokuto into the unprotected back of Hariel’s knee, collapsing him and freeing his neck. He rolled away to the side, taking note of the destruction of a priceless tool for the sake of a petty argument. As Hariel fell, he dropped into a roll and quickly bounced up six feet from Irian, and made ready to attack. This time Irian charged, blade back, in the style of his Yagyu Professor, feet barely touching the floor, and abruptly spun into a roundhouse kick. It landed firmly on Hariel’s jaw, and blood began to seep through the cruel smile he still wore.

“First blood, whelp, and I’ll pay you back a hundred fold, you motherless dog…” He swung for Irian’s face, placing all the force he had into the swing, only to be parried again and again.

Every person present noticed that the sound of two wooden swords striking was vaguely odd, as if there was something wrong with one. As the swords swung back and forth, Irian on the defensive, splinters flew and cracks formed in Irian’s weapon, and Hariel’s was becoming frayed. Their ability was simply more than the weapons could take.

Suddenly, Hariel’s weapon split, and revealed within was a metal blade-a shirisaya, not a bokuto at all. The blade bit into the bokuto, slowly splitting the heavy wood as Irian pushed with all his power against the unsheathed blade. The crowd gasped, and the Professors drew their weapons, as the blade finally powered through the bokuto, slashing into the face of Irian. It bit deep, slicing flesh and scoring bone, and the force of it knocked him a few steps backward. As he fell, he dropped the broken weapon, its useless halves falling beside him into the rapidly widening pool of red.